


We'll Talk Later

by Cakkie



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1980s, BAMFs, Bar Fight, Dual POVs, Flashbacks, Gay For You, Geralt is still a Witcher and a Dad, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Kissing, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Reunions, Sexual Attraction, Some Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakkie/pseuds/Cakkie
Summary: 1984 England.Geralt is a Witcher. Monsters still exist. While out on a hunt at a club one night, Geralt is reunited with an old friend.Loosely based after the infamous breakup scene between Jaskier and Geralt from episode 6 but set in the 1980s.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	We'll Talk Later

* * *

**Notes:** So, I am really sorry, but notes on AO3 are not working right now so I just wanted to write a few words. Firstly, I have no idea why I chose to write this story in the 1980s! I just hope I got the timeline right. Regardless, I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. :) Thank you for clinking on this story and giving it a chance! Please stay safe!

* * *

_1984 England_

It was dark inside the club.

By the time Geralt of Rivia made his way through the sea of packed bodies on the dancefloor, the thick layer of smoke and sweat dulled his Witcher senses, making it difficult to see or breathe. People rhythmically danced to a beat which banged inside his head like a drum. Fuck, he hated clubs. The crowds, the noise, the atmosphere, none of it was to his liking. But he had a job to do and he wouldn’t fuck it up this time.

Someone sloshed their drink to the side with a drunken, “ _Hey_! _Watch it_!” while a couple with overly teased hair grinned at Geralt, all smeared red lips and sharp pointed teeth. It made his skin crawl. The flash of strobe light caught their eyes, making them glow an otherworldly red. _Missing Creatures,_ he thought with a frown. While relatively harmless to humans, they belonged to a lower level race of Succubi who survived solely on sex alone. Geralt knew well enough by now to avoid them and their insatiable lust. The girl had one hand shoved down her partner’s jeans while he fingered the high-waisted lace panties underneath her pink ruffle skirt. With the lift of an eyebrow as if to say, _“Join us?”_ she beckoned Geralt closer. Geralt grunted in disgust and steered clear of the freaky couple. He’d come here for one reason and one reason only, and it was sure as fuck not to engage in an unholy threesome.

The giant sword tied at his back shifted with every move he made, a constant reminder that he had money to earn. Witchers were few in this day and age—a dying breed. While monsters on the other hand, ran rampant more than ever before, free to do as they please. Ever since the fall of Kaer Morhen a few years prior, the Agency had shut its doors for good while the media damned them with falsified stories. Witchers became a thing of the past, along with their public admiration. Now, they were treated as little more than a stigma on society, or in most cases, people ignored them. Geralt preferred the latter. _The School of the Wolf_ had little in the way of pupils, ever fewer in the way of Witchers. The last school and training ground kept secret from the public, only he, Eskel, and a few others, including his mentor and teacher Vesemir, kept the memory of Witchers alive. Ciri was the last to uphold the tradition. But Geralt had his reservations about it. As the only living heir and granddaughter to the fallen Queen Calanthe, Princess Ciri became something of a legend. Gifted under his protection after Nilfgaard killed her entire family, Geralt vowed to keep her safe by any means necessary. And while he never believed in destiny—it could go fuck itself as far as he was concerned, but when The Law of Surprise handed him a child with fae eyes, quick wit and a sharp tongue, his entire view changed. Ciri became more like a daughter to him than a Child Surprise.

A smile spread across his lips thinking of Ciri and her wavy, untamed whitish-blonde hair waiting for him at home. Right now, she would be settling in with _Jiffy Pop_ and the latest kid-friendly movie with Eskel, his brother in arms. He only hoped they were having a good time without him.

But such thoughts would have to wait until later. Geralt paused and scanned the club. His wolf medallion vibrated around his neck, altering him to nearby danger. Keeping his warrior-like stance ready, he pushed forward. _Billy Idol_ blasted from the speakers about a white wedding while people danced, not a care in the world. If things went according to plan, then this place would soon erupt into a sea of chaos. Geralt would try to spare them if he could, but in his experience, most humans scatted at the first signs of danger. Not that Geralt could blame them. It was in their nature to run. Humans lived in the moment, for pleasure and self preservation. Their time on the planet short, nothing like that of a Witcher. His eyes narrowed and Geralt sniffed the air, trying to pick up on the scent of rot and ash he’d been sent to destroy. Just as he was about to unsheathe his sword, a sweeter, more enticing scent filled his nostrils, one that gave the long-forgotten memory of smiling blue eyes, friendship, and loyalty. One he sorely missed.

“Look, I-I told you I had no idea she was with you—whoa-ah- _ahh_!”

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks. He would know that voice anywhere. A splinter of hope danced inside him. It couldn’t be, could it? Honing his Witcher instincts, Geralt zeroed in at the bar across the room. A smile tugged at his lips when his eyes landed on someone he thought he’d never see again. Dressed in a Van Halen tee-shirt, with red leather boots and a belt to match, his former friend, Jaskier, argued with a man twice his size.

Before Geralt even realized what he was doing, he took one step, then another, until he got close enough to make out deep blue the eyes rimmed with guyliner and the bewildered expression on his youthful face. It had been ten years, but fuck, his former best friend looked the same as ever. He looked _good_.

“Oi! Whatsamatter, shithead?” The giant bully of a man grabbed Jaskier by his front collar, shouting in his face over the music. The fringe on his leather jacket bounced with every move he made. Geralt bit back a growl. No one talked to Jaskier like that. No one. “Got ‘nother willie hiddin’ in ya pocket? Do ya still wish ta give ta my old mare?”

Geralt scowled. Whatever the fuck that meant, he had no clue. But Geralt planned to put a stop to it. In a flash, he placed one hand on the man’s shoulder and whirled him around so they were face to face.

“Forgive me.” He spoke with a bite to his voice. “But this happens all the time.” Geralt tried not make eye contact with Jaskier while using his body as a shield.

The man looked Geralt up and down. The moment his beady eyes landed on Geralt and the giant sword hanging at his back, he went rigid. “Who the fuck asked ya ta stick your nose where it don’t belong, ya mutant son of a bitch? This here is between ‘im and me.”

Where it didn’t belong? Geralt ground his molars together. When it came to Jaskier, it sure as fuck did. He could feel those bright baby blues watching him out of the corner of his eye, and a small thrill of satisfaction made him hum. More than anything, Geralt wanted Jaskier to give him some sign that he was happy to see him too. But the bard remained silent. That was never a good sign.

“Listen, freak,” the man spat, poking a finger directly at Geralt. “All’s I want is ta have a go at this ‘ittle pansy for making eyes at me missus, got it? Now sod off.”

Geralt clenched his teeth. He would have found this amusing if not for the threat against Jaskier.

“I think it’s best if you leave,” Geralt insisted, his anger rising.

The man huffed, making a fist. “I’ll’s leave when I’m good ‘in ready! But first, I’m gonna hit ‘im square in the face!”

The man aimed a punch at Jaskier and Geralt stopped it with the palm of his hand. Without thinking twice about it, he grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him headfirst against the bar like a rag doll. People carried on as if nothing had happened. Not even the bartender with his mile-high mohawk and safety pin earrings batted an eye. The man stood shakily to his feet to inspect the blood dripping from his nose. With a look of, _oh shit_ , he stared wide-eyed at Geralt and scrambled to get as far away from him as possible. That over with, Geralt turned to Jaskier and hummed low in his chest. They continued to stare at each other as a new song played. The lyrics blasted, “ _In a room without a door, a kiss is not enough. Loooove my way. It’s a new roooooad. I foll—ohh where my mind goes…_ ”

“You had no right!” Jaskier finally spoke, his eyes wide and accusing as if no time had passed between them. Geralt smirked. Fuck, it was good to hear Jaskier again after so long, even if he was sorely pissed.

“I had every right. You were about to have your ass kicked.”

“Uh, right. Good, then.” Jaskier scratched the side of his cheek as if he was unsure what to say next, and Geralt felt a stab of guilt when he noticed the pain in his eyes and hated himself for it. “Well, now that that’s settled, I guess you can go,” he said and turned to leave.

“Jaskier.” Geralt grabbed his arm, and they both froze at the contact. “Uh, can you stay? There’s um, something that I’ve been meaning to say to you for a long time now.” He spoke over the music. “That I _need_ to say.”

Jaskier’s throat bobbed and confusion danced in his eyes. Those wide eyes filled with hurt took Geralt back to another time when everything went to shit. Swallowing hard, Geralt became hit with an old memory, one likely never to forget.

_“So, I guess this is it, then?”_

_They stood alone on the mountaintop as if they were the only two people left in the word. A sacred place which seemed to belong only to the two of them, Geralt stood with his back to Jaskier as he gazed out over the open landscape below. The crunch of Jaskier’s boots behind him made his entire body stiffen. Fuck. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did he choose to do this now of all times?_

_“Jaskier.” He sighed. “I, uh, well what I mean to say is… ah, fuck!”_

_Jaskier’s soft laugh made Geralt turn. The pain on his face and the way Jaskier refused to look at anything other than him made Geralt swear._

_“So, you’re really going through with it then?” Jaskier asked, his heart in his voice. “You’re going to become a Witcher?”_

_“I am. I think a part of me always knew I would. We both have different roads ahead of us, Jaskier.”_

_A gust of wind blew through Jaskier’s hair and Jaskier blinked away tears. When Jaskier shoved his hands into his pockets, Geralt steadied himself. Here it came._

_“So, what you’re really saying… is there is no place for me in your life.”_

_Geralt let out a long-suffering sigh. Fuck, this really was hard. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the right thing to say when Jaskier closed the distance between them._

_Hesitantly, Jaskier pressed a hand lightly to his chest, surprising Geralt. The surprise must have shown on his face when Jaskier patted his chest and smiled._

_“This. This right here. I know it’s real.”_

_Their eyes met and unexpectedly Geralt’s heart beat faster._

_“Seeeee?” Jaskier arched a brow knowingly and Geralt hummed. “We’re friends, Geralt. Maybe even more than that, I don’t know. But whatever this is between us, there it is. But then what the fuck do I know, anyway? I’m just a bard.”_

_Geralt clenched his fists. He hated when Jaskier talked like that. Jaskier was more than just a bard. He was his whole fucking world._

_“Now, try to deny it all you like, Geralt,” Jaskier continued. “But you feel it too. This connection.” He pressed. “You feel it right here.”_

_The hard part was that he did. He really fucking did. But Geralt made his choice, and now he had to live with the consciences. The first rule of becoming a Witcher was to cut all ties with the outside world. But somewhere along the lines, Jaskier had become his. This was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was for the best. He needed to get it over and done with. Geralt sucked in a breath. Time to deliver the killing blow._

_“I don’t feel anything.” Geralt fought hard to keep his expression neutral. “There’s no place for you in my life, Jaskier. I’m not your friend. I never was. Time to move on.”_

And that was how Geralt left Jaskier on the mountaintop that day. Alone, without company or comfort, and he hated himself for it. Other than the apology note he slipped under Jaskier’s door a few days later, no contact existed between them—save for now. If given the chance, Geralt wished he could undo the past and change the way he handled things. He waited for Jaskier to say something, but the moment came too late. Jaskier may still hate him for what he did, but better to have Jaskier hate him and stay alive than face the alterative. Geralt knew Jaskier would have followed him down this dangerous road, and he couldn’t risk that. At least now he could better explain and apologize.

“I…” Jaskier swallowed. “I think it’s for the best if we…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed and his smile fell. “Please?”

Since when did he say please? Geralt held his breath when Jaskier took a step towards him. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the center of the dancefloor erupted into screams as broken shards of glass and tiles flew everywhere when a Harpy Queen crashed through the ceiling. Instinctively, Geralt grabbed Jaskier and hid him behind his back. People panicked and raced for the exit as the harpy stood on her razor-sharp talons while stretching a set of large multi-feathered wings outwards. With one pointed look, she turned her beak in Geralt’s direction, hatred and hunger shining in her unearthly eyes.

Fuck. He forgot he’d a job to do.

“ _Witcher!_ ” she screeched, her bird-like call ringing out like a piercing bell. “How dare you enter my nest uninvited!”

Claws like knifes ready to strike and heckles raised, the harpy was in no mood to sit down and invite him to tea. Geralt reached for his sword and readied himself. This was going to be one hell of fight and murder on his arms. He only hoped the cash would be worth it. But first, he needed to make sure Jaskier was safe. The harpy would steal his dreams and leave him a wandering husk of a shell, only to eat Jaskier if given half the chance.

Geralt turned to Jaskier. “Stay here,” he insisted while gently shoving a protesting Jaskier behind the bar. “We’ll talk later.”

“But—!” Jaskier grasped hold of his wrist.

“Jaskier.” Geralt kept his tone soft but firm. “We’ll talk later,” he reinforced while cupping the back of his neck and giving it a light squeeze.

Jaskier seemed a bit perplexed by it all when he squinted his eyes. “All right.” He nodded.

Geralt smiled. “Hmm. All right.” He made sure to tuck Jaskier safe behind the bar before he unsheathed his sword and went to fight the harpy.

* * *

_Hungry like the Wolf_ started playing as Geralt chased the weird bird-like monster with saggy tits around in circles with his gigantic scary sword. The _du du du du du du du dudo dududo dudo’s_ of the song were in perfect timing with every swing Geralt made with his enormous sword. Jaskier would have found the whole thing hilarious if not for threat posed to Geralt. He could hardly believe that Geralt was back in his life again. Yet somehow, no matter how much time had passed between them, their connection still felt the same. Almost as if no time had passed at all.

While his hair was a little longer, whiter, Geralt still looked the same. Same muscular build, same amber eyes, only now they appeared more cat-like.

_No, not a cat. A wolf._

Somehow that thought made Jaskier sad. The intense training subjected to Witchers had become something of a myth. But Jaskier knew otherwise. Looking at Geralt now, his heart winced. What kind of hell did Geralt put himself through to be able to do this?

The harpy hovered high, her giant wings flapping like a windstorm when Geralt shot a blast of magic from his fingertips. It sent the harpy flying against the wall with a loud crack and screak. Jaskier wondered how Geralt did that when, with a scream, the harpy aimed her wings and shot blue and green feathers as sharp as daggers at Geralt, missing by an inch. Jaskier flinched. He had to do something and do it _fast_.

“Hey, you!” Jaskier waved, emerging from his hiding spot. “Over here!” The harpy narrowed her eyes at Jaskier, and Jaskier gulped. He could do this. He had to. “Uh, I think you’re really stupid!” he shouted from across the room. “Not to mention ugly and smelly! And, uh… I hate you?”

“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled out in warning. “I said we’ll talk later!”

Jaskier turned to Geralt. “Uh, and I wasn’t actually talking to you, Geralt, but now that I you mention it—”

“ _Dammit Jaskier_! I told you to say there!”

The harpy screamed and lunged towards Jaskier. Thinking fast, Jaskier picked up a broken piece of plywood and chucked it right at the harpy, hitting her square in the face.

“Uh-yeeeah!” He jumped, fist pumping the air. “Take that, bird brain!”

The harpy shook her head and screeched loud and clear; her eyes murderous. “Foolish human! You’ll pay for that!”

“Oh shit.” Jaskier stared wide-eyed as the harpy dove for him. Before he knew what was happening, Geralt grabbed Jaskier and threw him out of the way.

“Fuck! Geralt!” He coughed, his lungs filling with dust from where he landed on a pile of wreckage.

The harpy dove again, but this time Geralt struck her hard with his blade before she could do any actual damage to Jaskier. With a deep grunt, Geralt sliced deep through her shoulder blade, severing one of her wings as she screamed, blood and feathers everywhere.

“Get out of here!” Geralt shouted over his shoulder, his voice gruff. “Or go hide! I mean it!”

The scene before him was like something out of a nightmare. Jaskier didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and raced to find a safe hiding spot. No way in hell was he going to leave Geralt now. The bar was the only thing left standing, so he ran for cover and took one last look at Geralt—who, covered in blood and feathers, had the harpy on the ground. The battle raged on and Jaskier swallowed, his heart hammering. Hacking and slashing while turning his muscular body mid air, Geralt fought like a man possessed. Jaskier had seen nothing like it. And while he never considered himself a religious person, but right there and then, Jaskier prayed for it all to stop. For Geralt to be safe. Screams filled the room and Jaskier covered his ears to block it all out.

_BANG!_

A colossal explosion boomed before his vision, and then everything went dark.

* * *

_The locker room emptied with hoots and hollers as the other players strode out one-by-one until only he and Geralt remained after football practice. Shirtless, and standing in his_ Spiderman _boxers, Jaskier kept his back turned while sneaking glances at Geralt as he dried off. Huge biceps and sculpted muscles flexing, the man was built like a tank. No wonder everyone wanted him on their team this year. No wonder why everyone wanted him,_ period _. Jaskier glanced down at his smaller frame and sighed, patting his stomach lightly. He might not be as high in demand as Geralt, but at least he still had abs… somewhat._

_“What are you doing?”_

_Jaskier dropped his towel and cried out. Geralt stood inches away from him._

_“Uh, oh, Geralt! Hello. You know, you really aught to stop sneaking up on people like that. What if I’d been holding a knife?”_

_Geralt grinned wolfishly. Lately, that smile had been doing funny things to his stomach. They were friends. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to climb Geralt like a tree._

_“You?” Geralt smirked, his tone doubtful. “Holding a knife? In a locker room?”_

_Hands on his hips, Jaskier huffed in mock annoyance, “Well, I very well could be!”_

_“Hmm.” Geralt inched closer until they were almost nose-to-nose, one hand pressed against the wall behind them. Jaskier was met with the most intense set of amber eyes staring into his and swallowed hard, pulse racing._

_“Jaskier…” Geralt said in a sigh and paused, his mouth ghosting over Jaskier’s in an almost kiss._

_Oh, fuck._

_This wasn’t another one of his wet dreams, was it? Jaskier hoped not. He took a moment to admire the firm jaw and dark stubble on Geralt’s chin. No, this was real. At nineteen-years-old, Geralt was already a man. As their chests brushed together, a jolt of electricity raced down his spine and his skin tingled. Feeling bold, Jaskier traced a hand over the light dusting of Geralt’s treasure trail and kept it there for good measure. He could hardly believe he was touching Geralt like this. That Geralt was touching him._

_The heavy rise and fall of their chests ignited a fire inside him the more he pressed closer. But when Geralt hummed low in his chest, Jaskier felt it through every inch of his body. That’s when he noticed the mouth-watering V of Geralt’s hipbones and the hard length of his cock tenting in his shorts. Damn. This was so hot. Jaskier let out a soft whimper and chewed on his bottom lip. He was horny as fuck and his cock certainly liked the attention Geralt was giving him. So did Geralt, by the look of things. He wondered what it would be like to grind their cocks together, and a soft moan slipped past his lips. Never in a million years did he think about being with a guy like this before. But this wasn’t just any guy. This was Geralt._ His _Geralt._

_Hard and turned on himself, Jaskier leaned back until his head hit the tiles behind him and with the suggestive curl of his mouth, licked his lips. Nostrils flaring and a hungry look in his eyes, Geralt was quick to pick up on the invitation and leaned in with a light growl. Fuck, Jaskier loved the noises Geralt made. They made him hot. Jaskier closed his eyes and waited. In what was about to be the hottest and most meaningful kiss of his life, the door suddenly burst open and he and Geralt jumped apart. An awkward tension grew between them from that day forth and they never spoke about it again._

* * *

The battle ended when Geralt severed the head of the Harpy Queen with a single hack. Her headless body twitched before she fell to her knees and collapsed on the floor in a bloody heap. He hadn’t expected the harpy to use such powerful magic against him, powerful enough to blast him senseless. But in the end, it worked in his favor when he caught her off guard and delivered the killing blow.

Breathing hard, Geralt sheathed his sword and went to retrieve Jaskier. Yet the moment he turned to do so, Geralt forgot to breathe. His heart plummeted and the ecstatic feeling he once had turned to bitter disillusionment. The bar was in complete and utter shambles, with Jaskier nowhere in sight.

_No-no-no-no-no-no-no!_

This couldn’t be happening. Not yet. Not when he’d found Jaskier again. He couldn’t lose him. Desperate in a way he didn’t think possible, Geralt franticly dug through the rubble for any signs of Jaskier.

“Jaskier!” he yelled as if it would somehow make Jaskier magically appear. “Jaskier! Where are you? For fuck’s sake! _Answer me!_ ”

“Geralt?”

Heart beating faster than it should, Geralt slowly turned around and a sense of relief filled him. He let out a breath as his shoulders slumped. Covered in dust, cuts and scratches, Jaskier stood only a few feet away from him, unharmed and alive.

“Um, I’m right here.” Jaskier waved and like moving in slow motion Geralt made his way towards him.

* * *

Jaskier didn’t know what to expect when Geralt came stomping his way. The determination and strength in his stride made Jaskier shrink back a little, unable to hold his gaze any longer by the dark look on his face. Maybe Geralt would yell at him for being foolish. Or shake some sense into him. But he sure as hell did not expect Geralt to pull him into in a tight embrace and hold him there.

“Jaskier,” he said against his hair in a harsh whisper. “You’re okay.”

The relief in Geralt’s voice made his heart flip-flop in his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” Jaskier mumbled against Geralt as they broke apart. “Sorry ‘bout that. But I think, I think I may have blacked out there for a bit. When I awoke, I was on the other side of the room. I still don’t know how that happened. It was weird, but you’re probably do it all the time with your Witchering abilities and all.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, his hands still on Jaskier. Jaskier frowned. He mentally kicked himself that he’d missed the chance to hug Geralt back. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Um, no?” Jaskier blinked. “I mean, you’re the one who fought that… _thing_ over there.” He pointed at the headless creature and tried not to get sick over the ghastly sight. “And you’re still standing to talk about it. Umm, how _are_ you still standing to talk about it, anyway? One minute you’re all like, _get behind me, Jaskier. I’m a Witcher,_ and then the next—oh.” He blinked and Geralt followed his gaze to where Jaskier stared wide-eyed at gouge on his arm. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine, Jaskier.” His wolf eyes brimmed with amusement. Geralt held his gaze a few seconds longer. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“And here I thought you didn’t care,” he teased.

Geralt made a pained noise. Instead of answering, Geralt moved, and Jaskier just about had a heart attack when Geralt cupped his face in the palm of his hands.

“I care,” he said, and then did something Jaskier didn’t think possible.

He leaned in and kissed him.

* * *

_Holy shit. Geralt is kissing me!_

After getting over the initial shock of what was happening, Jaskier parted his mouth in a sigh and relaxed against him. Geralt wasted no time slipping his tongue inside his mouth. They kissed softly, slowly, tasting each other, nibbling on lips and sucking on tongues. Years of unsaid words and pent-up feelings became released in a single kiss. A deep groan rumbled from Geralt and Jaskier moaned in return. The sharing of panting breaths and soft touches made Jaskier want to sink into Geralt. And when their tongues flicked together, the kiss soon turned deep and passionate. But the sudden flash of a camera made Jaskier blink.

“Fuck.” Geralt sighed as a member of the press took uncounted pictures of them together.

Police car lights and sirens flashed outside and Geralt swore again.

A reporter with a long trench coat and dangly earrings shoved a mic right in Geralt’s face. “Mister Witcher! Care to comment on what took place here tonight?”

“No, I fucking don’t.” He grabbed Jaskier by the hand and dragged him along, much to Jaskier’s surprise.

“Just one question!” The reporter chased after them, leaving Jaskier staring back at her.

“Fuck off!”

Head swirling, Jaskier stumbled to keep up with Geralt when a TV camera crew started filming the scene as more people piled in.

“Uh, Geralt?” Jaskier blinked. “I think this the part where you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“This is the part where we get the hell out of here! It’s the fucking press.” Geralt spat.

“Uh, right. Good. I can see that. Look, I know you just fought a monster and all, but you know, for someone of your calibre, you’re not making a lot of sense right now.”

“We’ll talk later.” Geralt guided him over a pile of rubble near the back entrance where a giant hole in the wall led a way out.

“Uh-huh.” Jaskier swallowed when Geralt lifted him in his arms to help him over a broken door frame. “You keep saying that. But um, when exactly is that going to happen?”

With the press and the police not far behind them, they stood in a darkened alleyway. Pulse racing, Jaskier waited for an answer.

Wide-eyed, he watched as Geralt removed a piece of dirt from his hair and regarded him with so much fondness shining in his eyes, it took his breath away.

“As soon as I get you safe and settled, Jaskier.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Uh, right. Okay then. And where exactly would that be?”

Without another word, Geralt took his hand again and guided Jaskier to an old beat up looking car.

“Home,” he said, opening the passenger door for him. “I’m taking you home. We’ll talk there.”

Without another word spoken, Jaskier climbed in the car. After the strange turn of events, he somehow felt safe. As Geralt dashed around the front to the driver’s seat, he wondered what else this night had in store for them. But he figured as long as he had Geralt back in his life, things were about to get a lot more interesting, and Jaskier couldn’t be happier.

Relaxing into his seat, Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed. The city lights flashed over his face as Geralt drove in the opposite direction. He had so many unanswered questions. For starters, what was with that hot as hell kiss back there? Why _did_ Geralt kiss him? Were they really making out? And when did Geralt learn to use magic like that? It all made his head spin. But Jaskier guessed Geralt was right. They were together now. Slowly, Jaskier drifted off to sleep and smiled, knowing that he and Geralt would talk later.

**The End.**


End file.
